“There wouldn’t have been much point in his killing you,” said Antony prosaically. “Besides being too risky.”

“Oh!” said Bill. And then, “I had rather hoped that it was his love for me which restrained him.”

Antony laughed.

“I doubt it.⁠ ⁠… You didn’t turn up your light when you dressed?”

“Good Lord, no. Did you want me to?”

Antony laughed again and took him by the arm.

“You’re a splendid conspirator, Bill. You and I could take on anything together.”

The pond was waiting for them, more solemn in the moonlight. The trees which crowned the sloping bank on the far side of it were mysteriously silent. It seemed that they had the world very much to themselves.

Almost unconsciously Antony spoke in a whisper.